


Small Miracles

by PhantomFlutist



Series: Error!AU [2]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Error (Music Video), M/M, References to Surgical Procedures, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:39:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9987230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomFlutist/pseuds/PhantomFlutist
Summary: Hakyeon always knew that this day would come. But he has a plan, and Taekwoon beside him to see him through.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "my heart is still (remembering)". If you don't read that first you're gonna be hella confused. This might not be the last thing that you see in this universe; I'm kind of in love with it and stuff just explodes out of me sometimes.

 

Hakyeon lays curled up in bed beside his husband, wrapped in strong arms and feeling warm and comforted and not at all nervous about what he knows is going to happen tomorrow. He knows Taekwoon doesn’t feel the same way. But what can he do? He’s going with the option that has less risk, believe it or not. He’s choosing to put everything he has into the chance that he’ll be able to stay beside his husband forever.  
  
Taekwoon was always a man of few words, but something about what he’s become has made him even more prone to showing his emotions with actions instead of speech. He’s pressing little butterfly kisses all over Hakyeon’s face, fluttering them across his eyelids when he blinks.  
  
“Do you ever regret it?” Hakyeon asks with his throat feeling raw. It always feels raw and overused these days. That will change after tomorrow.  
  
Taekwoon hums, presses his lips to Hakyeon’s again before he asks, “Regret what?”  
  
“Becoming a cyborg,” Hakyeon whispers.  
  
For a moment Taekwoon goes bot-still, like his brain is too busy processing Hakyeon’s question to bother with any other functions. His chest doesn’t even move with breath. Finally he says, very quietly, “I don’t.”  
  
Hakyeon isn’t truly surprised, has heard Taekwoon say before that he would give up much more to be with Hakyeon, but he also knows something else, from when Taekwoon had the same disease that now ravages Hakyeon’s lungs. “You didn’t want to be this, before,” he says. “When you got sick I offered, and you refused. You said you would rather be dead than become something less than human.”  
  
“I was wrong,” Taekwoon says. He pulls Hakyeon impossibly closer, presses their foreheads together and stares into his eyes so that Hakyeon has no choice but to believe what he says. “I did not know then, what this would be like. Do you feel that I am less than human?”  
  
Hakyeon shakes his head. Tears are springing to his eyes, and it’s stupid, so stupid, but Taekwoon is everything to him. His death had devastated Hakyeon.  
  
“Do you feel as though I am a different person now than I was before the change?” Taekwoon presses. His hands are warm against Hakyeon’s bare skin, warmer than a normal human’s, the hardware beneath his skin constantly thrumming with energy.  
  
“No, dearest,” Hakyeon breathes, reaching for Taekwoon’s face, pulling him into a kiss that Hakyeon wishes would never end.  
  
It’s cut off with coughing, Hakyeon muffling the noise with a hand over his mouth. Taekwoon makes a high, distressed sound and reaches to the nightstand for Hakyeon’s handkerchief.  
  
Hakyeon finishes coughing, wipes his hand and his mouth with the cloth that Taekwoon offers, and looks up again. “You will still love me tomorrow,” he says, lilting it like a question even though he already knows the answer.  
  
Taekwoon nods, pulls him close, and rubs soothing hands over Hakyeon’s back until he drifts into sleep.

  
  
\---

 

Hakyeon has gotten used to walking into his own clinic and finding other people already there, over the past year or so. Ken has gone from very enthusiastic student to near partner, and he spends long hours in the office studying every piece of information Hakyeon possesses on robotics, medicine, and the art of making a person into a cyborg.  
  
At some point, mostly because he was bored, Hyuk started coming along. And now he’s something resembling a receptionist, albeit not a very good one. When Hakyeon walks in this particular morning with Taekwoon in tow, Hyuk is tapping rapidly at the _clinic_ tablet in front of him in a way that usually means he’s playing some sort of game.  
  
Hakyeon rounds the desk, intent on scolding the kid for abusing his equipment, and finds that rather than playing a game Hyuk is typing rapidly, the words flying past so quickly that Hakyeon’s eyes have trouble keeping up.  
  
Floundering for words because the ones he had prepared are no longer relevant, Hakyeon settles for, “Good morning.”  
  
Hyuk’s head whips up so fast Hakyeon is a little surprised he doesn’t break his neck, and when he sees Hakyeon standing over him he slumps back in the chair. His fingers have barely paused. “Sorry, just give me one second,” he says, glancing back down at his work.  
  
Hakyeon waits, watching with mild amusement as Hyuk’s hands actually speed up and he races to the end of his thought before finally taking his fingers from the virtual keyboard and turning his chair to address Hakyeon properly.  
  
“Morning,” Hyuk says, his smile cheeky. “You ready for the big day?”  
  
Hakyeon doesn’t think he’s ever been less ready for anything, but he knows that’s not going to be of great comfort to anyone involved, so he says, “As I’ll ever be. What’re you working on there?” He nods at the tablet, hoping for anything else to think about for a minute or two.  
  
“Oh!” Hyuk startles and glances back over at the tablet, at the text document he’s left open. “It’s just…some research I’m doing.” Hakyeon thinks that if Hyuk were still capable of blushing, he would be right about now. As it is he merely avoids Hakyeon’s gaze and plays with his fingers in a way that’s reminiscent of Hongbin.  
  
Hakyeon leans against the edge of the desk, pretends that there’s not a cough trying to work its way up his throat and asks, “What kind of research?”  
  
Hyuk shuffles his feet against the floor, great big canvas sneakers making soft scuffing noises. “Um….”  
  
“Humor me,” Hakyeon says, trying not to laugh. Hyuk comes off as overly-confident at first, slightly mocking in his words and actions, but as you get to know him you realize that really, he’s sweeter and more socially awkward than you thought.  
  
“It’s just…something I’ve been working on, trying to figure out what specific contaminants are responsible for the Black Lung, trying to find a way to scrub them from the air.” He looks up again, sees Hakyeon’s indulgent expression, and quickly looks back down. “It’s stupid, I know.”  
  
“It’s not,” Hakyeon promises, ruffling Hyuk’s hair. “You’re doing a good thing, Hyukkie.”  
  
Hyuk shrugs. “It’s just busywork,” he insists. “A thousand qualified scientists have been trying to figure it out for decades and they’ve got nothing. I’m just one uneducated kid.”  
  
Hakyeon ruffles his hair again, and says, “You don’t know that. For all you know you were one of those scientists, once. Let yourself believe that you can make a difference.” It was, Hakyeon thinks, how Hongbin ended up stopping the company that made Hyuk into a cyborg in the first place. When Hongbin stopped doubting himself and everything around him, it was much easier for him to make choices that made a difference.  
  
The exam room door is flung open and Ken’s bright voice declares, “You’re _late!_ ”  
  
Hakyeon gives him his most unimpressed stare. It’s ruined by the coughing fit that he’s been holding back for the last several minutes and he has to dig his handkerchief out of his pocket, feeling silly.  
  
Taekwoon’s arm goes around Hakyeon’s shoulders and he holds him close as his body contracts frantically, trying to force the crap from his lungs. “Never again,” he murmurs into Hakyeon’s hair.  
  
Hakyeon knows exactly what he means: after today, he’ll never cough again. He’ll never again pull a handkerchief from his mouth to find it flecked with blood. Taekwoon will never have to worry for his husband’s life again.  
  
“Are you ready?” Ken asks. He’s lost his goofy exuberance in favor of the persona that he’s been putting on more and more lately, the serious, studious one that Hakyeon trusts above everyone but Taekwoon.  
  
Hakyeon nods, strides into the exam room where he belongs and drops himself into the chair where he’s never belonged before. “Let’s get this over with,” he says.  
  
Taekwoon has followed him in, and he leans over the chair now and presses a kiss to each of Hakyeon’s cheeks, to the bridge of his nose, and then finally to his lips. “I will be here when it is over,” he promises.  
  
Hakyeon dredges up a smile for him, more nervous than he cares to admit.  
  
Taekwoon seems to sense his unease and takes an extra moment to wrap Hakyeon’s hands in his, to kiss each of his knuckles, and then to breathe against the metal of Hakyeon’s wedding ring, “I love you.”  
  
Hakyeon nods, feels his throat choking up for entirely different reasons than normal and replies, “I love you too.”  
  
Ken waits to get started until Taekwoon is finished, until he’s slipped from the room and the door has shut softly behind him. When they’re alone he sets a medical gown in Hakyeon’s lap, doesn’t have to tell him to get changed.  
  
Hakyeon has done this a hundred times, but he’s always been the one with the gloves and the scalpel, not the one in a thin paper gown, sitting there waiting to be cut open. He trusts Ken, trusts him with his life. He has to, if this is going to work.  
  
He knows exactly how every step is going to go. He’s been coaching Ken on it for weeks, teaching him in excruciating detail exactly how the surgery will need to be done. But once they begin, Hakyeon will go to sleep and his fate will be entirely in Ken’s hands.  
  
He lies back, tells himself to breathe, and goes through the steps in his head to calm himself down. The control chip will be implanted in his head first, will meld with his mind and control all the robotic pieces inside of him. After that, Ken will cut open his chest and replace the damaged parts of his lungs with synthesized flesh and wire. And then the other changes that Hakyeon wanted made, one by one until he’s more metal than man.  
  
Well, he knows that’s not true. Even with the work that he’s having done, he won’t be more than twenty or thirty percent bot. He’ll still be himself. He’ll still be the man that Taekwoon married.  
  
“Ready?” Ken asks again, hovering over Hakyeon wearing gown and gloves and mask. His tools are prepared and near at hand, everything is set out as it should be.  
  
Hakyeon takes a deep breath and tells himself that it’s the truth when he says, “I’m ready.”

  
  
\---

 

When he wakes it’s through a fog—of medication, of pain—but Taekwoon’s face is already there above him. It’s difficult to move, and Hakyeon isn’t sure for a moment whether that’s a byproduct of the surgery or if he’s just sluggish from the anesthesia. When he does finally manage to curl his fingers, to lift his hand to Taekwoon’s arm (he’d been aiming for his face, but the effort was too much and he’d given up partway through), the pain is nearly unbearable.  
  
He knows this is normal. Ken will give him morphine, and with time the pain will fade. He’ll heal.  
  
“How do you feel?” Taekwoon asks. His face is tight, his small mouth more pinched than normal. Hakyeon wonders if he’s been crying.  
  
“Hurts,” Hakyeon manages to croak, and then realizes that it was the wrong thing to say when Taekwoon’s eyes go distressed.  
  
Before Hakyeon can say any more Taekwoon is already waving for Ken, insisting that Hakyeon be given pain medication at once.  
  
Hakyeon, very carefully, squeezes Taekwoon’s arm. “Dearest,” he says, and realizes that in spite of the pain, his breath is easier than it has been in months. “I’m alright.”  
  
“You’re not,” Taekwoon says, shifting his attention back to Hakyeon as Ken moves around them. “You’re in pain.”  
  
Hakyeon feels his lips draw up in a smile, knows that he seems ridiculous, bandaged and hurting but happy, and says, “But I’m alive.”  
  
Small miracles, he knows, are worth far more than great, grand, amazing ones. That he survived the procedure is a small miracle. That Taekwoon lived and returned to him is a small miracle. That they will have the next hundred years or maybe more to spend together is a small miracle.  
  
Taekwoon’s lips begin to relax, begin to even hint at a smile as well. “You are,” he murmurs.  
  
Hakyeon has Taekwoon, and he’s alive. That’s all he could ever ask for.

 


End file.
